Ten
by two-headed fiesta
Summary: Po-ops," the girl whined, stomping her foot in the sand. "I got your toolbox, and those guys were lookin' at me funny again."


i own nothing but my imagination.

* * *

**Ten**

* * *

"The toolbox is bigger than she is," one man remarked to another while sipping from a flask under the midday sun.

"You've been saying that for years. One of these days that won't be true anymore." The other man stretched and stood, watching the young girl bounce as she walked toward a machina several (hundred) times bigger than herself, pausing only to carelessly drop the toolbox before running off to the hind-side of the structure.

"And when its not true, it's time to start pawning your son off on her. Heh heh." Another sip from the flask, and they stood joking about the sunny-haired little girl carrying the bright red toolbox. Years and years would pass, and yet they would revisit the same conversation day after day. Arranje Tamé, the second man, was father to one of Home's premier young stud-muffins, subject of all the premature flirting within the ranks of the Home youth. He was bright, good with his hands and handsome.

And the bobbing blond with the red toolbox was every father's aspiration for such a boy.

"Po-_ops_," the girl whined, stomping her foot in the sand. "I got your toolbox, and those guys were lookin' at me funny again."

Muffled from under the massive machina, a voice slithered roughly, "well, did you do what I damn-well-toldja-to?"

Silence. "No."

"Why the hell not, girl?"

"Because."

The hint of a mumble from beneath the metal beast hit the young girl - something about complaining.

"I'm not complaining!" She whined blindly, kicking at the machina with a booted foot.

The man laughed, peeking his head out. A smudge of grease mussed his brow and part of his cheek, but the girl didn't pay it any mind; she was accustomed to walking anywhere in Home and finding sludge and mud and sand and grease on any number of faces. She stuck her hands into her dirty overalls and frowned, watching the man laugh at her. "You're just like your mother," he explained, extending a hand out for a wrench. "You'll bitch and moan and not do shit about it." Rikku handed Cid the appropriate wrench and continued to watch him. "And then you'll always come runnin' to me, expectin' me to fix shit for you." He slid under the machina. "Just wait until you're thirteen and you realize the damage your knee can do."

Rikku bounced on her heels, waiting obediently for the next instruction while staring off toward an unmarred expanse of sand. She loved working in the desert best, so whenever Cid had a project out in the sands, she would beg and beg to tag along. He was a big softy for his only daughter.

For a good while the pair remained like that; Cid tinkering under the machina while Rikku shimmied on the spot, watching wind tickle the sand into rising up and floating in a dust cloud a few feet away. Her eyes saw the solid facts of wind and dust and sand, but her mind saw the most beautiful dance in the world. When some sand and a gust kissed, riots of grain flung themselves into the sky and swirled for her viewing pleasure and hers alone. Using her feet as a guide, the girl began twirling in an imaginary dance mapped out in her ten-year-old mind.

"Girl!" Cid barked to deaf ears as Rikku spun and spun. "GIRL!" The leader's head popped from under the machina to spy his young daughter dancing, arms outstretched like her partner was the wind itself. He screamed again, her attentions no better caught than the first few hollers. Cid just shook his head and let his head fall into the sand as he watched his girl go.

Across the way, the men were laughing as Rikku danced herself out from behind the machina. "You want your son marrying Cid's loony girl?"

The second man chuckled, smirking as he said: "I never said marry, and I wouldn't wish that loony upon anyone but my boy."

The first man laughed, wiping his brow. "I don't think Cid will like that much."

"Well," the second man began, grabbing the other's flask and taking a quick gulp. "I don't think Cid will have much of a choice when it comes to her. Like her momma, she does what she wants and leaves everyone else to pick up the pieces behind her."

"You think Gippal can handle it?" The first replied, snatching away his precious flask.

Hands settling at his hips, the second thought for a good moment as Rikku's song and dance ended. She stopped on the spot, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Both men cracked smiles as she saw them, her cheeks flushing pink. Sprinting behind the protection of the machina, she breathlessly cried, "Po_-ops_! Why'd ya let me go where the men could see me? You're mean!"

Cid laughed, loud and long, much to Rikku's disapproval.

"I'm thinking he'll be up for the challenge," the second said finally, grinning over to his friend.

"You sure?"

"Hell no." Laughs. The two men were silent for some time, going back to their tasks when a nice, hearty _clunk_ sounded from behind the machina. Cid's swears were loud enough to frighten a shoopuf as Rikku stomped away from the scene, fists balled by her sides. She chanced upon seeing both men curiously watching her and immediately snarled. "My daddy told me to knee you in the baby-makers! Both of you!" She shouted, continuing on her way without fulfilling the advice. Moments later, Cid came bounding after her while nursing his head, cursing something fierce. "Ya morons better be fuckin' happy she's only ten!" He called to the men on his lurch after his daughter.

The two shot glances at each other before bursting into laughs. The first said smiled, "Hell, Tamé, there's nothing like being ten."

* * *

_& then we'll go to ohama to work and exploit the booming music scene and humility._

reviews, please?


End file.
